Page 76 of Scythe & Sparrow
Yes.
The dots of Fionn’s reply are immediate.
Permanently?
I roll my eyes.
Yes. I left my keys on the island. I’ll make sure Lachlan knows he can grab them.
You also left your tarot deck.
“What thefuck,” I say out loud, the legs of my chair grating against the tile floor as I stand. I pat down my jacket pockets. I dig through my purse. I’m starting to tear through my backpack when I remember. It was in the leather pouch on my nightstand. I can picture it clearly. “Fuck. Fuckingfuck.”
I’m dragging a hand through my hair when my phone buzzes with another text.
I can bring it to you.
I’m having coffee with Lark. Then I’m going to meet up with Silveria at 1PM at Fan Pier.
I have to be at the airport by then. But it’s on the way. I can give you your deck back and drop you off at Fan Pier ifyou’re okay to be there a little early.
I sigh, cursing myself. I’m not thrilled at the prospect of seeing Fionn after I made so much effort to get the fuck out of there. But I cannot andwill notleave Gran’s deck behind.
I’m deliberating, still weighing my options when a flash of blond hair catches my attention out the window. Lark strides toward the entrance of the café, her eyes meeting mine through the glass. Her smile ignites and she waves.
Okay. Trident Café.
I’ll pick you up at 11:30.
Other than a thumbs-up to his message, I don’t reply, setting my phone down on the table to embrace Lark when she sweeps in like a storm of sunshine and glitter, her wide smile a balm to my busted-up soul. Even surrounded by her warmth, a cold chasm seems to take up space in my chest. I know deep down that she would never walk away from our friendship on purpose. But I also know how much harder it will be to see each other after today. Lachlan is Fionn’sbrother. As much as I’ve come to love Lark and Sloane, I know it will be hard to stay close when doing so will only keep feeding the pain that’s already consuming me. My heart makes its bruises known with every beat. It begs me not to take another blow.
“You look stunning, as always,” I say as we part and take our seats across from each other.
“So do you,” she says, though I see a flicker of worry as her brows knit together. A server interrupts her thoughts and Lark orders a latte, and I use that brief moment to try to put on a more convincing mask. It doesn’t work, of course. Because Lark is like a fucking laser beam that cuts right through bullshit. “Everything okay? You don’t seem like yourself.”
I wave her off, but it only deepens the concern in her eyes. “I’m just …”
Lark’s head tilts.
“I’m not … things aren’t …”
Lark’s hand darts out and encircles my wrist. The sudden kindness has tears threatening to well in my eyes. “Rose …?”
“I’m going to join Silveria again.” I force a smile, trying my best to infuse it with brightness. “I just need to hit the road again, I think.”
Her head tilts in the opposite direction, just like her dog, Bentley, whenever I ask him if he wants bacon. “But I thought you were liking it here …? Did Rowan not talk to you about working at 3 in Coach? I know he was going to. If it’s work-related, I can just—”
“It’s not work-related,” I say. “I left the keys on the island in the apartment. Thank you so much for letting me use the place and I’m sorry for not clearing it out like I should’ve.”
“Is this about Fionn?” she asks. I bite down on my lip to keep it from quivering. Lark squeezes my wrist and I shrug, shifting my gaze to the far end of the café. She sighs a long, sympathetic breath of frustration. “I’m so sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” I reply, shaking my head. “But thank you. Maybe another day.” I lay my hand over hers and this time, when I meet hereyes, my smile is a little less forced. “I want to hear all aboutyou. I want to hear about married life to that adorable asshat Lachlan.”
For a long moment, Lark says nothing. I know what she’s thinking. She wants so badly to offer support, but she doesn’t want to force it on me. And I love her for that.
With a final squeeze of my wrist, Lark lets go and sits back to regard me as the server brings the latte to the table. When he leaves, she refocuses her attention on me.
“He’s good. Really good. Things are …”
